


New Beginnings

by HarmonyLover



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deathly Hallows AU, F/M, Harry and Hermione go to find the Grangers, Hermione graduates from Hogwarts, No Epilogue, Post - Deathly Hallows, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2308001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyLover/pseuds/HarmonyLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At Hermione's graduation from Hogwarts, Harry reflects on their relationship and how they progressed from friends to being a couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : I own nothing related to _Harry Potter_. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, et al. I write these stories purely for entertainment purposes; no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> **Author’s Note** : This was prompted by the lovely crayonsandteaparties on Tumblr, and while I had initially intended for it to be a drabble, it looks like it will have two or three parts. It’s so nice to be writing Harmony again!

**New Beginnings**

 

“Hermione Granger!”

Harry stood in the stands of the Quidditch pitch and cheered as Hermione walked across the stage, resplendent in new Gryffindor robes with their bright scarlet and gold crest. Professor McGonagall smiled as her star pupil reached the far end, handing Hermione her diploma and warmly embracing her.

Helen Granger, who was sitting to Harry’s left, wiped her eyes as Hermione joined her other classmates who had already been called. “I’m so proud of her.”

“That makes two of us,” David Granger added, squeezing her hand.

“This is exactly what I wanted for her,” Harry said quietly, his eyes sparkling as he smiled at the Grangers. “A day that was about _her_ , and everyone else who came back to finish this last year. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Hermione, and she deserves every bit of celebration we can give her.”

“Well said, Harry,” David beamed, and Helen leaned affectionately against Harry, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

As the litany of names went on, Harry thought about everything that had brought them here. Right now it was a beautiful day in June, a cool breeze and sunny skies blessing this Hogwarts graduation that marked a year of healing and renewal after the end of the Second Voldemort War. But it had been a rocky road to get here, though he wouldn’t change a moment of it.

* * *

 

 Harry ducked as a spell flew over his head in one of the upper corridors of Hogwarts, sending a shower of disintegrated stone over him. He shielded his head with his arms as sharp bits of stone cut his skin. He coughed as the dust rose around him, then threw a spell at the Death Eater he’d been fighting.

“ _Petrificus totalis_!”

His aim was good; the spell hit the Death Eater in the chest even before the dust cleared. The cloaked figure toppled over, stiff as a board.

Harry coughed again and wiped his face on his sleeve, glancing down the hallway. The fight was still raging; Harry caught a glimpse of Percy and Charlie fighting a pair of Death Eaters and Luna and Cho teaming up on another masked figure.

Suddenly, Harry felt a hand grasp his elbow, and he whirled to find himself looking into Hermione’s brown eyes.

“Hermione!” he gasped in relief. Her arms and legs had numerous gashes, there was a cut on her face and a burn on her hand, but she was undeniably alive.

“Are you all right?” Harry demanded.

“Yes – for the moment,” Hermione replied, her mouth turning up in grim amusement.

“Hufflepuff’s cup?” Harry asked anxiously.

“Gone,” Hermione answered, and a brief shudder passed over her at the memory of stabbing the cursed object.

“Where’s Ron?” was Harry’s next question.

“Helping Percy and Charlie,” Hermione answered, her mouth twitching in real mirth this time. Harry could see that she was mildly amused at his rapid fire questioning, but she understood his need to know that everyone was all right and to have as much information as quickly as possible. He gave a quick nod, acknowledging her penetrating look.

Abruptly, Hermione pulled Harry around the nearest corner, pushing him against the wall with surprising strength. Before Harry could react, he felt Hermione’s lips on his, her whole body pressing itself to him. Without even thinking about what he was doing, one arm stole around Hermione’s waist and pulled her closer, while the other raised itself and his fingers tangled themselves in her heavy curls.

The sweetness of Hermione’s lips overwhelmed Harry. Her body seemed to fit into his perfectly, and it staggered him. Their kiss went on for what seemed like an eternity, and when they finally broke apart, desperate for air, Harry felt as though he was seeing his best friend for the first time.

“Hermione –” he began, his voice hushed.

Hermione shook her head and put her fingers to Harry’s lips. Her eyes were wet even while she smiled at him.

“Don’t say anything, Harry,” she said quietly. “Let me say this. I know there’s a good chance that at least one of us won’t make it away from here tonight. I know that you have to fight Voldemort, and that you’re terrified but willing. I couldn’t bear the thought of never having kissed you, and one or both of us dying, and never having another chance.” Hermione’s voice shook more and more as she spoke, but she kept going, desperately needing Harry to understand. She kept looking straight into his eyes, and Harry found that he could not look away. “I need you to know, Harry, when you go to fight Voldemort, that no matter what happens to either of us, you have been _loved_.”

Her whole frame was shaking now, and Harry tightened his arm around her, tenderness filling him. “I’ve been a fool, about Ron, about so many things last year, but – you have been loved so deeply,” she finished in a whisper, and the tears finally spilled over onto her cheeks. She brushed them away impatiently with her hands and stepped back. The battle was still going on around them.

In the past three minutes, Harry’s entire world had shifted. “Hermione –” he began again, his thoughts and emotions filling his green eyes.

“I know, Harry,” she said, smiling still, although it was a terribly sad smile. She reached out and caught his hand. There were a million things that Harry wanted to say in that moment – he wasn’t sure she did know; he hadn’t known himself until this very minute – but there wasn’t any more time to talk. He grasped Hermione’s hand in return, and they ran back into the thick of the battle. 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until they were all standing on the bridge outside of Hogwarts, just after Harry had snapped the Elder Wand in half and thrown its pieces into the ravine, that Harry and Hermione had a chance to talk about what had happened. Harry was exhausted, and he knew Hermione and Ron were just as weary. Ron was still staring out at the ravine, contemplating the choice Harry had made by destroying the wand, when Hermione came up to him and gently laid a hand on his arm.

He looked over at her, into her brown eyes, and was overwhelmed again by all of the emotion he saw there. Hermione suddenly hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder.

“You did it,” she said, her voice breaking. “Oh, Harry, you did it.”

Harry wrapped her arms around her, holding her just as tightly as she was holding him, but he drew back just enough to look at her.

“ _We_ did it,” he corrected her softly. “I would never have made it through these past seven years without you and Ron. You both saved my life several times over.”

A tear slipped down Hermione’s cheek and she nodded, hugging him again. When she released him and looked up, Harry saw the same nervousness in her eyes that had been there just before their kiss in the Great Hall.

“Harry,” she began shakily, “I acted on impulse during the battle.” She was twisting her fingers in anxiety, but, she kept her gaze firmly on him, and when she saw the flash in his eyes, she hastily clarified. “I meant it! I meant all of it, every word, every – moment – but Harry, if you don’t – it’s all right, it doesn’t matter, it won’t –”

Understanding suddenly rushed through Harry as he comprehended what his best friend was trying to do. She was trying to give him a way out, if he wanted it; she was promising that their friendship would still be there, would not be damaged, if he didn’t return her feelings.  He shook his head slightly, his tired features lighting with a half-smile. Carefully, he lifted a hand and ran it down her cheek, tracing her temple and cheekbone with his fingers.

“So – not Ron, then?” he asked hesitantly, his voice scratchy and unsure.

Hermione gave a laugh that was almost a sob, shaking her head as her hand came up to cover his. “No. We talked it all out one night at Bill and Fleur’s, after he came back – and it was really Ron who made me see what I felt for you. I care for him so much, as my friend – but we would kill each other if we tried to be together, and we both know it. And no one else in the world is you, Harry. I just – I put any idea of us as a couple out of my head, so long ago. Why on earth would you want me? Being your friend and trying to keep you alive seemed like much more practical goals,” she finished, her mouth turning up in a wry grin.

Harry couldn’t help it; he began to laugh. “Always the practical one, aren’t you?”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Hermione retorted sarcastically, though she was still smiling. “And where would you be without my practicality and study skills, I’d like to know?”

Harry’s smile faded into a grim line. “Dead, most likely, long before today,” he answered bluntly.

Hermoine flinched, and Harry pulled her closer in apology, tentatively brushing his lips over hers. “I’m sorry,” he said, low. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. But it’s the truth, ‘Mione. You know it as well as I do.”

Hermione leaned her forehead into Harry’s and clutched him where her hands were resting on his back, her fingers digging into his jacket. “I was never going to let that happen,” she said fiercely.

“I know,” Harry answered. “You weren’t the only one who was an idiot about us, Hermione. I cared for Ginny a lot, and I still do, but she was never you. You have always been the one I wanted with me in any situation, good or bad; you have always been there for me, to comfort me and give me advice and save my life. But I always thought you wanted Ron – and I didn’t think you would ever think of me this way. I hoped you wouldn’t, really; I didn’t want you to be any more upset if I – if I didn’t make it through all of this,” he finished hesitantly.

“But you did,” Hermione said, still fierce. She leaned in and kissed him again, firmly, determined to get her point across. “We all did, and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

Harry began to chuckle once more, and after a moment Hermione joined him, acknowledging the ridiculousness of her own statement, however much she might wish it could be true.

Both of them suddenly became aware of a throat being cleared close by, and they jumped apart guiltily.

“It’s really about time you two got that sorted out,” Ron said teasingly.

“Says the one with the emotional range of a teaspoon,” retorted Hermione, slapping him lightly on the arm for his smugness.

“It may actually interest you to know that I’m going to ask Luna on a date,” Ron said, lifting his chin and affecting an air of superiority. He tried and failed to hold back the smile that was pulling at his lips.

Hermione stilled, her mouth dropping open. “Luna? Really?” she asked.

Ron ducked his head, digging his toe into the stone of the bridge. “Yeah,” he said bashfully. “I like her. She’s . . . different. I mean, I don’t know her that well, and we’re all just starting to sort things out,” he said, with a slightly apologetic glance at Hermione. “But . . . I’d like to talk to her. Get to know her a little more.”

Harry couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Well, I think that’s fantastic, Ron.”

“Shut it, you,” Ron grumbled, his cheeks turning deep red.

“I mean it!” Harry exclaimed. “I’m not having you on; I think she would be good for you. She’s a good friend.”

“I think she would be, too,” Hermione added. “You have a big heart, Ron, and so does she.”

“We’ll see,” Ron said, blushing again.

“I’d like to go find my parents,” Hermione said softly, lacing her fingers through Harry’s.

Harry nodded. “Of course we will,” he agreed, his green eyes serious as he thought of all the people that had been lost, all of the families that were now missing members. He didn’t want Hermione to be apart from her parents a minute longer than she had to be.

“I would go with you, but I think Mum and Dad would rather I stay here for a bit,” Ron said solemnly. “They’re . . . going to need to have all of us around. After Fred.” Ron’s lips tightened as he mentioned his brother, and he blinked back tears.

Hermione stepped forward, pulling Ron into a gentle hug. “We won’t go until after the funeral,” she promised. “We won’t leave you alone.”

Ron hugged her back gratefully. “Thanks, Hermione,” he said roughly. Hermione lifted her head and beckoned Harry with a glance, and he put his arms around them both, leaving all three of them in a tightly wound, comforting embrace.

* * *

 

George was adamant about not having a sad and sober funeral for his brother. He wouldn’t have wanted it, George said, and they hadn’t spent their whole lives creating laughter only to have tears now. Mrs. Weasley supported him wholeheartedly, and Fred’s funeral was on a beautiful, sunny summer day at the Burrow.

Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Fleur outdid themselves with the food; long tables in the Weasley’s backyard were groaning with all of Fred’s favorite dishes. Bill had set up wards around the entire property so that only invited guests could come and go. George created an elaborate display of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products interspersed with flowers and pictures of the twins from their childhood up until the present, with the last ones being several shots of the brothers from Bill and Fleur’s wedding, both posed and informal. Percy and Charlie strung up lights and arranged chairs and tables.

It was a beautiful memorial. Most of the twins’ friends from Hogwarts were present, along with their parents and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s friends from the Ministry. A good number of the students in the other classes came as well; everyone had liked Fred, and they all mourned him.  All of the members of the Order came to pay their respects. There was good food, music, and many, many funny stories that reduced the listeners to both laughter and tears.

Just at dusk, they all gathered out in the grass, and sent bursts of light from their wands into the multihued night sky.

* * *

 

The next morning, Harry and Hermione left bright and early, after a hearty breakfast cooked by Mrs. Weasley and many hugs from every member of the family. Ron walked with them out beyond the house, where they were going to apparate to the Leaky Cauldron and from there go to Heathrow.

“Are you sure about this, traveling to Australia the muggle way?” Ron questioned dubiously.

Hermione shifted the cord of her beaded, magically extended bag on her shoulder. “Absolutely. It will give us time to plan and figure out where to start looking.”

“Plus, can you imagine using a Portkey all the way to Australia, Ron?” Harry added. He shuddered. “You’d be on your knees and sick the minute you landed. Apparating would be just as bad.”

Ron shook his head. “Youngest Seeker in a century and like lightning on a broom, but you can barely keep your feet or your food when you use a Portkey. I’ll never understand that, mate.”

“Chalk it up to living as a Muggle for the first eleven years of my life,” Harry shrugged.

“Owl me as soon as you’ve found them, all right?” Ron asked, hugging Hermione.

“You’ll be the first person to know,” she nodded with a smile.

“Be safe, you two,” Ron said, stepping back.

“We will be,” Harry promised. He and Hermione joined hands, and with a _crack!_ , they were gone.

* * *

 

It took them a week to find Hermione’s parents.

Harry was sure that there was a spell that would have allowed them to locate the Grangers much more quickly, but Hermione seemed determined to find them without magic. Her reasoning was that if any Death Eaters or Voldemort sympathizers were still looking for them, magical signatures would be sure to give them away – which was true, but Harry privately thought that she simply needed the time to mentally brace herself for whatever happened. In the meantime, he tried to help in whatever way he could, and he and Hermione slowly explored the new closeness that had bloomed between them. They slept much as they had all of those months in the tent, fully clothed and close together; they were still too wary from the recent fighting to trust that they would not need to run. In the mornings, however, they were invariably more intertwined than when they had fallen asleep: arms touching, hands clasped, or one of their heads on the other’s shoulder.

Although Hermione had left her parents in Sydney when she had relocated them and wiped their memories, they had moved in the interim to a suburb named Crow’s Nest. The day they arrived in Sydney, Harry and Hermione had combed phone books at a tourist information office for Wendell and Monica Wilkins. The first address they found had led to a home that had recently sold, and by questioning the neighbors, they were able to determine that the Wilkins had moved, but no one could remember exactly where they had gone.

“It must have been a side effect of the spell,” Hermione sighed, after a long afternoon talking to the people who used to live near her parents. “The whole point of erasing their memories was to ensure that no one could find them or link them to me, so of course when they moved, no one was able to remember where they had gone.”

Her eyes were sad, and Harry reached out and put an arm around her waist. “We’ll find them,” he reassured her.

“I know,” Hermione answered. “I just can’t help but wonder what will happen when we do. I wanted to keep them safe, but what if I reverse the spell and they don’t remember me? What if they wish I had left them alone?” Her voice cracked, and she gripped Harry’s fingers so tightly they were almost numb. “I’m so scared, Harry.”

Harry put his arms around her and stroked her hair with one hand. “Hermione, your parents love you. I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t want to see you again, even if they’re upset by everything that’s happened,” he said quietly. “When I – when I saw my parents, and Sirius and Remus, in the forest, they stayed so close to me. I just _knew_ that if they could be alive again, if they could truly have had the chance to hold me and defend me and change what had to happen, they would have done it in an instant. I was terrified, but I’ve also never felt so _safe_. And I’m sure your parents – not Wendell and Monica Wilkins, but _your_ parents – feel exactly the same way. I’m sure they would do anything to have their daughter back again."

Hermione was silent as she absorbed Harry’s words, and then she lifted her head and pressed a hand to his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You are the bravest man I know, Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled and shook his head as he pressed a kiss to the heel of Hermione’s hand. “It isn’t really bravery. There are more important things. Like friendship . . . and cleverness,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

Hermione smiled, blinking away tears at the memory and the realization that Harry remembered, too. “And love,” she finished tenderly, completing the thought she had been too scared and confused to finish years before. “Definitely love.”

Harry pressed their foreheads together. “Love is more important than all the rest, I think,” he whispered in reply, and then kissed Hermione fervently.

 


End file.
